Dead Ahead
by Jinxed-Wood
Summary: Veronica Mars and Highlander crossover - Veronica stumbles across a headless body on the beach… Post ‘Donut Run’ LV…ish Characters: Veronica, Logan, Joe, Methos, ensemble
1. Chapter 1: Beachcombing

The thing about being under FBI surveillance, is that it can be so damned inconvenient sometimes, Veronica thought, shivering as she stepped onto the sand. Tugging gently at Backup's lead, she wandered towards the surf and tried to ignore the hairs rising at the back of her neck. The not so discrete FBI agent was beginning to get on her nerves.

"No, the little high school student isn't about to run off to aid and abet her baby snatching ex-boyfriend. She's just taking a long, solitary walk on the beach…move along there, folks, nothing to see here. Just Veronica Mars, Neptune's dumpee of the week," she muttered under her breath as she let Backup drag her further down the beach. How much longer would this go on?

She debated whether or not to produce a few tears for the ever-present long lens camera, but decided against it. She'd had already used that trick once, this week, and the look of betrayal on her Dad's face still hadn't faded. Maybe she'd just let her chin wobble a bit as she stared at the horizon…not so hard, really.

It pretty much fitted her mood.

Veronica's eyes blurred, and she flopped into a graceless sprawl on the beach. Damn, sometimes it felt like her body had a mind of it's own. Blinking, she buried her face in Backup's coat, as he whined and pushed at her shoulder with his nose. "It's okay, boy," she murmured, reassuringly, scratching him behind the ears as she unhooked the lead. "You go and have your run." With a bound, Backup darted up the beach, his tongue hanging out in that special, doggy way of his, with not a care in the world. How she wished she could say the same. Wasn't high school supposed to be the best years of her life?

She thought of the day ahead and winced, the FBI had nothing on the grilling tactics of Neptune High's student body, all of them wondering if she knew what Duncan had been planning. One person wasn't in any doubt, of course. Logan_ knew_she was lying. He'd read it in her face in two seconds flat, before strutting away with that oh-so-slappable smirk on his face.

Grimacing, Veronica picked up a stray stone and threw it into the surf, watching as it sunk without a trace under the surface. Just like my life, she thought, cynically, as she picked up another pebble and weighed it in her hand.

A bark echoed down the beach, and Veronica's head jerked up. Backup's outline was barely visible in the distance. Scrambling to her feet, she frowned as she watched him worry at something on the ground. "Backup, Backup, _here _boy," she called, breaking into a jog. In Neptune, you never knew_ what _the sea might wash up.

She was five feet from the dark heap when she realised what it was. "Oh my God—" her stomach heaved, and she turned her face away as she tried to push down the nausea. She had seen more than her fair share of dead bodies over the last few years, but this was…this was…

She closed her eyes, trying to push the image of the headless corpse out of her mind. "Backup, come here," she said, hoarsely. Whining, Backup trotted over to her. " _Good _boy," Veronica leaned down to attach his leash before fumbling in her pocket for her cell phone. Hopefully, he hadn't disturbed the scene too much, or Lamb would never let her hear the end of it.

The sound of footsteps crunching through the sand filled the air, and Veronica looked up, her heart sinking when she realised who it was. Perfect, just _perfect._ "Agent Morris!" she said, brightly, "Fancy meeting _you _here."

"Miss Mars," the FBI agent said, dryly, flicking her long, fair hair out of her eyes as she eyed the body at Veronica's feet. "You seem to be in a little trouble here?"

"Yeah, that's me, little miss trouble," Veronica chirped, sarcastically. "Dead bodies just turn up _wherever I go_."

So I've been told," Agent Morris murmured. "You do realise that I'll have to take you in for questioning?"

"Actually, no, I didn't," Veronica said. "Since when did having the misfortune of finding a body, merit a trip to the Sheriff's office? What _exactly_will be I questioned about?"

Well, you have to admit it _is _a bit suspect, Miss Mars. First, you're implicated in a federal kidnapping case, and now we find you standing over a dead body—"

"C'mon, give me a break. You know I didn't do this; I've been under surveillance since Duncan disappeared. I haven't been able to use the toilet without someone snapping a photo of me, never mind commit a murder!"

"I don't know what you mean, Miss Mars, Twenty-four-hour surveillance costs money, and we don't waste our precious tax dollars trailing after eighteen year old high school students. If we did, of course, we could clear this right up, but…"

Understanding suddenly bloomed in Veronica's mind. "It's not going to work," she said, softly. "I don't know where Duncan is."

"Of course you don't, Miss Mars," Agent Morris said. "And you know nothing about this body either. Did you know, statistically, a high percentage of murders are perpetrated by the person who actually stumbles across the body; it's amazing, really."

"You're forgetting the bit that mentions the murderer is also usually a close family members" Veronica drawled back. "Can we skip the pseudo-psychology? I'm feeling nauseous enough as it is."

Agent Morris's face hardened. "Okay, if that's the way you want to play it, that's what we'll do," she said, abruptly. "Veronica Mars, you are under arrest."

"Now, wait a minute—"

"Too late, Miss Mars. You have the right to remain_ silent_. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law…"

Shaking her head, Veronica put her arms behind her back as Agent Morris produced a pair of cuffs, letting the words float over her head as her mind raced. How the hell was she going to get out of this? First things first, she thought, get Dad to post bail and then figure out who the victim is…if she could figure that out, she might be able to track down the real killer and get Agent Morris out of her hair…damn, this is going to look so bad on her school record…


	2. Chapter 2: Jailbait

Seven hours.

Seven long hours.

With seventeen to go, before they either charged her or let her go.

Unless they get an extension, Veronica thought, sighing restlessly. Gotta love the Patriot Act.

Lamb's smug expression floated back to haunt her as she tried to make herself comfortable on the hard mattress. Guess he wasn't too happy about his wild Mexican goose chase, she thought, a smile hovering on her lips. She knew he suspected what had been in his trunk. The venom in his voice had been even more vitriolic than usual…

* * *

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Veronica Mars. What's she done now?"

"Suspect in a homicide," said Agent Morris crisply

Lamb's eyebrows raised in disbelief. "A homicide," he drawled. "Moving up in the criminal world, Veronica?"

"That's me, America's most wanted," Veronica has said, acidly.

"Tell it to the wizard, Mars."

"Y'know, you really should get a new catch phrase, that one's getting a little old," she bit back.

* * *

__

Five minutes later, she was locked up in a nice, cosy cell, with nothing but a mattress and Charlie the cockroach for company.

Bored, she glared at the ceiling. So far, she had counted two pieces of chewing gum, a patch of mould, and a dark stain she'd rather not identify. Oh yes, life was fun in the pokey.

The door beeped, and Veronica eyed it as it opened, revealing a familiar, crumpled figure. "You owe me, big time," Cliff said. dryly.

"You got me out?" asked Veronica eagerly.

Nodding, he stepped aside for a deputy, who unlocked the cell.

"Free at last," she said chirpily.

"A word of advice, Veronica," Cliff said, sardonically. "Next time, get a better class of Lawyer. If the coroner hadn't confirmed the time of death as three days ago – about the time you were last helping the police with their enquiries – you'd still be locked up."

"Did they run the fingerprints?"

Cliff raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at the deputy, meaningfully.

Nodding, Veronica dutifully trotted silently after him and filled out the release forms at the desk. "Where's Backup?" she asked.

"He's in my car," Cliff said, laconically. "Chewing my upholstery."

She waited until they were on the front strips before she asked again. "Fingerprints?"

"Word is they identified them," Cliff confirmed. "But, funnily enough, they didn't want to share the details with me. I did overhear a little titbit while I was waiting for Lamb to quit stalling with the paperwork, though. What did you do to Agent Morris, by the way? She _really _doesn't like you."

"I've probably upset her five year career plan," Veronica said lightly. "She wanted me give up Duncan – as if I knew where he was."

"Sure, Veronica, whatever you say," Cliff drawled.

"Hey, he_ dumped _me, remember? I'm an innocent party"

"Yeah, and you've got the witnesses to prove it."

Veronica decided to let the matter drop. "So, you overheard something?"

"Did I mention that you owe me big time? I see a lot of free gratis work in your future."

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, now give."

"I got a name."

"I thought you didn't get the name of the victim."

"I didn't, I got the name of the guy who identified the body."

Veronica blinked. "How do you identify a headless body?"

"Apparently he had a distinctive tattoo on his wrist."

She raised an eyebrow. "It could be worse, I suppose. They could have found my name written on his palm. Oh, wait, that was the last time they found a body on the beach - jail tats?"

Cliff sighed. "Veronica, much as I'd like to be the font of all wisdom, I'm afraid I can't help you. All I got was a name - Joe Dawson."

* * *

_Joe Dawson._

Biting her lip, Veronica tapped the name into her Dad's database, her eyebrows shooting up as his information came up. Wow…Vietnam vet, twice decorated…might explain the tattoo…has a gun permit… an address in Seacouver… bar license…and a few parking tickets, nothing more serious."

Veronica frowned as she looked at his photo, he was an out-of-towner, so chances were he was staying at a hotel. He got here awful fast, though, it made her think he may have already been in Neptune when they discovered the body...

"Veronica, honey, whatch'ya looking at?"

Veronica jumped, and looked up to see her father strolling into the office. "Oh, you know, gambling, porn, the usual stuff," she said brightly, closing the window. "I didn't hear you come in."

Keith smiled knowingly. "How was school?"

Veronica considered lying, but saw the glint in his eye. "You've been talking to Lamb, haven't you," she sighed. "I did try to call you, but your cell wasn't picking up."

"Got a tip on Harry Johnson," Keith said, throwing himself onto the couch. "It wasn't the kind of neighbourhood you left your cell on, if you catch my drift."

"Did you get him?" Veronica asked, her memory dredging up the case; another bail jumper.

Keith smiled. "Steaks tonight," he confirmed. "Had a nice chat with Lamb, when I turned him in too."

Veronica sighed. "You know they just did that to pressure me," she pointed out. "All I did was find a dead body."

Keith shook his head in amusement. "You know, I'm pretty sure that most fathers don't have to lecture their teenage daughters about annoying the FBI. What happened to prom dates and good grades?" He said dryly.

"C'mon Dad, that's Tuesday and Thursdays," Veronica said brightly. "Monday and Wednesdays are handcuffs and jail bars."

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Hmmm, let me see," She tapped her chin with a forefinger. "Cook me steak?"

* * *

She knew she shouldn't be doing this, she had enough on her plate, and it isn't as if Agent Morris could make anything stick. But there was something about that dead body that wouldn't let her go. She needed to know what had happened to him.

She told Dad she was going to the library, and he wryly informed to be back by ten. It was a familiar dance; she lied, he pretended to believe her, it usually worked out well.

Usually.

A few surreptitious phone calls from her bedroom had tracked down Joe Dawson's hotel. It had taken longer than expected, but how many Barkeeps stayed at the Neptune Grand? Now all she had to do was find out which room he was in.

Unfortunately, because of her frequent visits to the Neptune Grand over the last few months, her face was too well known, and conning the information out of the desk clerk wasn't an option. It's a pity the hotel security didn't see her in the same light as her father.

Veronica combed her fingers through her hair and strolled inside, smiling at the desk clerk as she made a beeline to the elevator. That was the upside of being a regular at the hotel.

The downside was Logan Echolls.

"Why, Veronica, did you miss me?"

Veronica glared at the figure lounging inside the elevator. "It's a hotel, Logan, not your private estate. Live with it," she muttered, stepping into the elevator.

"I'm crushed," Logan drawled. "Which floor?" His finger hovered over the elevator buttons.

"Aren't you getting out?"

"I changed my mind."

Veronica smirked. "If you're not careful, I might begin to think you've missed me," she said dryly. "Floor eight." The linen cupboards were on floor eight and, if she was lucky, Julie would still be on the day shift and willing to gossip.

The doors slid closed, and Veronica studiously studied the elevator ceiling and ignored him. It didn't work

"So…who brings you to the Neptune Grand? A new beau? Didn't take you very long, did it? You always liked a quick turnover."

Veronica rolled her eyes. "It's none of your business," she said stonily.

"Yeah, there seems to be a lot of that going on lately."

Veronica grimly kept silent, knowing he was referring to Duncan's disappearance.

Logan laughed sourly under his breath. "That's what I thought."

"You just can't leave it alone, can you?" Veronica sighed.

"Why should I? I do enjoy it so," Logan said, mockingly.

"Listen, Logan—"

The elevator stopped, and Veronica fell silent as the doors began to slide open.

"Sorry, dudes, this elevator is taken," Logan drawled, pressing the door button.

A cane snaked out and lodged itself between the narrowing gap. "Not so fast, buddy."

Not believing her luck, Veronica grinned as the doors jerked apart and revealed the face attached to the cane. Well hello, Joe Dawson, pleased to meet you, she thought.


	3. Chapter 3: Reviving the Case

Not believing her good fortune, Veronica smiled widely as Joe Dawson entered the lift, her Colgate bright smile dimming only fractionally as he was joined by a tall, slim built man, in his early thirties. "Going down," he said.

It was a statement, not a question, but Veronica nodded enthusiastically. "Same here," she said, putting on her best bubble-gum voice. "What a coincidence!"

The elevator moved upwards and Joe Dawson raised an eyebrow, before exchanging a look with his friend. "Downwards, eh?" he drawled. His friend snorted a laugh, but Veronica kept the smile on. No brains here, she thought grimly, oh no, just another ditzy cheerleader…

A snigger came from behind her, and Veronica turned to look at Logan, giving him the death glare with her eyes. "Why, Logan!" she said, her voice sugary sweet. "Still here?"

The elevator chimed, as the doors flew open on the eight floor, and Logan gave her a pointed look. "Don't you have an appointment to keep?" he asked. Why the hell wouldn't he shut up?

"Change of plan," she said lightly. "But don't let me keep ya', I'm sure that pet cougar of yours is waiting to pounce on you, in your rooms."

"And miss the entertainment value of watching you squirm in an elevator?" he drawled, before a mock thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Oh, wait; I've already seen that, haven't I…?"

Veronica felt her cheeks go hot, as the memory flashed into her mind. She silently stabbed the ground floor's button.

"So," Joe Dawson's friend drawled out. He had a British accent, Veronica noticed; a very sexy British accent. She tried her best to concentrate on the sexy, British voice, and ignore the self-entitled asshole burning a hole between her shoulder blades with his eyes.

No, it still wasn't working….

"So…?" she said, and then winced. Wasn't that what he said, a few moments ago? She smiled and flicked her hair. Maybe if she flirted, he wouldn't notice there was something iffy going on in Oz. "So," she said again, and died a death in her mind. She'd never frozen like this before. It was embarrassing…

But, apparently, British guy liked blondes….or he was an idiot. "So, we're all going to the ground floor," he said, his voice easy and amused. "What a coincidence."

Okay, maybe not an idiot….

"Yeah, serendipity at its best," Joe Dawson muttered, and Veronica bit back a sigh. Joe Dawson wasn't an idiot either, apparently.

Logan stood up to the doors and smiled secretively. "Oh yeah, just one happy accident after another," he said, sotto voice, to the British guy.

Must not forget to let the air out of his tires on the way home this evening, she thought to herself. Yes, it was petty but, hey, maybe she was doing him a favour. He could do with a little deflating, all that hot air can't be good for a guy.

Amusement flashed in the British guy's eyes as Dawson growled under his breath. "Cheer up, Joe, it could be worse," he said.

"Not for Jim, it isn't," he muttered. "Damn it, I knew it was too soon to…" he caught himself, mid-sentence, and took a breath.

Jim, so she had a name, Veronica thought with a start. The elevator halted, and Veronica's mind began to turn as the doors slid open. Did they have a car she could bug? Did Dawson's friend have a name? Oh yeah, a whole slew of questions, and not an answer in sight.

Veronica bit her lip; maybe she should just let this one go.

"Miss_ Mars!" _Veronica froze as the doors opened, revealing Agent Morris with Sheriff Lamb in tow. He didn't seem too pleased to be the sidekick.

"Agent Morris, what are you doing here?" she asked, in her best 'surprised' voice. Not that she have to pretend too much, she thought ruefully.

"Please, Miss Mars," the Agent said dryly. "That act might work with the local Sheriff's department, but it doesn't work with me. How long have you known Mr Dawson and Mr Pierson?"

"Who?" This time, she didn't have to fake any confusion. Where was Morris going with this?

Agent Morris smirked, and crossed her arms. "You know, for a woman who pleads her innocence, you do seem to turn up at all the wrong places," she said flatly. "First, the crime scene—"

"The crime scene?" Veronica echoed with disbelief. "Is this the forensic dark ages, or something? The body was washed up on the beach. I found it. I doubt the crime scene was anywhere near either of us at the time…"

"And, then of course, there is your previous track record, when helping us with our enquiries—"

"He dumped me," Veronica protested. "And he didn't leave me a forwarding address!"

Morris ignored her. "And, of course, here you are, cosying up to the deceased's acquaintances even though you told me you didn't recognise the body," she went on.

"Wow, I am totally blown away by your thorough and accurate investigative skills, Agent Morris," Veronica drawled sarcastically, throwing away the last vestiges of friendliness. There didn't seem much point to it. "I'm especially amazed by your last piece of detective work. Imagine, me not recognising a headless body!" A sharp snort emanated from the British guy, and Veronica glared at him.

Sorry," he said, "Throat…tickle…."

"Don't worry, we have something down the station that will clear that right up for you, Mr Pierson," Agent Morris said, nodding to the Lamb.

"Adam Pierson, I'm arresting you for the murder of Jim…."

"What the hell are you doing?" Joe Dawson, cut in sharply, "You can't do that. He doesn't have anything to do with it."

"Haven't you heard?" Logan murmured, as Lamb handcuffed Pierson. "This is Neptune. Arresting the wrong person for murder practically has its own sporting season around here."

"Not now, Logan," Veronica said lowly. Could Agent Morris be right? Was Pierson responsible for the dead body on the beach?

"That reminds me," Lamb drawled, "You were late signing up at the station this week, Echolls, see it doesn't happen again."

"See what I mean?" Logan said, giving Joe a conspiratorial look. "You're practically not a native, until you've been arrested for at least one serious misdemeanour."

"If you're not careful, Mr Echolls, I'll add another one to your list," Agent Morris said brusquely. "Interfering with an ongoing federal investigation."

Logan slapped a hand over his heart, but kept quiet as Lamb finished reading the British guy his Miranda rights. Joe Dawson, on the other hand, was another matter.

"This is stupid," he burst out. "You know he hadn't anything to do with it. He just flew in from Seacouver this morning!"

"We haven't been able to verify that," Agent Morris said softly. "In fact, there are no records of an Adam Pierson flying on any flight into Neptune, in the last month. Care to explain that, Mr Dawson?"

Joe Dawson scowled like a trooper at the agent, even as he shifted his weight on his cane. "Obviously, somebody somewhere cocked up! I picked him up from the departure's lounge this morning. If it ain't on your records, it's definitely on tape!"

"You better hope you're wrong, Mr Dawson," Agent Morris said coldly. "Because, if he was on that plane, he wasn't flying on it under the name of Pierson… tell me, why would your friend be flying under a false passport?"

"Leave it alone, Joe," Pierson said suddenly. "I'll sort it out at the .station. Just make sure you call M… my lawyer."

Veronica's ears perked up, what had Pierson been about to say?

"Don't worry, Miss Mars, I haven't_ forgotten _about you," Agent Morris said suddenly, seeing the expression on her face.

Veronica lifted her eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're going to arrest me for the murder too? I don't think they allow you to hedge your bets like that.. something about a constitution?"

Morris's eyes narrowed. "You may not be the murderer, Miss Mars," she said "But you do know something, and I intend to find out _what_."

Cue ominous music," Logan said, under his breath. Veronica bit her cheek, trying not to laugh, as Agent Morris bristled.

"You may think your name and your wealth protects you, Mr Echolls," she said. "But, as you know, your father found out differently."

Veronica winced; cute, Agent Morris, she thought to herself, real classy.

The three of them, Veronica, Logan, and Dawson, watched Lamb and Morris haul Pierson through the lobby.

"Sorry about your friend," Veronica offered quietly.

"What's it to you?" Dawson asked.

Veronica shrugged. "I didn't mean to pry."

His eyes swerved on her, sharpening. "Oh yes you did," he countered. "It wasn't a coincidence you were in that elevator, was it? Morris had a point. You know something!"

Veronica sighed. "I wish I did, Mr Dawson, I really do," she murmured. "But all I know is that I found a body on the beach, and nobody seems to know why."

Dawson gave her a long look, and must have seen something he liked, because the tension flowed out of his shoulders. "Sorry," he muttered. "Jim was a friend of mine. I guess I'm still in shock."

Curiosity raised its perky head in Veronica's mind. "How did you two know each other?" she asked.

Dawson opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it, and shook his head. "Never mind, kid," he said. "You're probably better off not knowing." He limped away, and Veronica stared at his back. There was something about Joe Dawson that strangely reminded her of her Dad.

"Ronnie, you're not trying to get yourself killed again, are you?" Logan drawled. "Coz, I gotta say, this death wish of yours is getting real old."

"What?" Veronica said distractedly. "Oh…yeah…whatever." She came to a decision.

She was still on the case.


	4. Chapter 4: The Nine O’Clock News

"Veronica, honey," her father said absently, as he rooted around in the fridge. "You couldn't go out and light the barbeque, could you - I'll whistle up some of your favourite steak sauce? " He waggled his eyebrows.

Veronica smirked and rolled her eyes. "Why, I'll do anythin' for your special homemade hot and spicy Tabasco steak sauce, Papa," she said, in her fake Southern accent, as she threw on a cardigan. Backup held up his head hopefully and trotted to the door. She quirked an eyebrow at him, but picked up his lead all the same.

"I thought you said you'd have a talk to him about those puppy eyes he keeps pulling on me," she mock grumbled, as she attached the lead.

"He told me it wasn't his fault I have such a sucker for a daughter."

"Ha, ha," Veronica said, as Backup dragged her through the door. "Oh, and don't forget the Salad!

"Salad?"

"You know? The green stuff you're supposed to eat in order to balance out all that lovely artery hardening steak?"

"My daughter speaks of heresy," he moaned. "Thou shalt not serve steak with greens, unless it's in a pepper sauce or tops a baked potato, so sayeth the good steak cookbook!"

Veronica shook her head in commiseration. "That's the best comeback you could come up with?" she asked. "Better come up with a way of adding some brain food into that meal before it's too late." Before he could come up with a retort, she shut the door with a grin.

"Rooph!" enquired Backup, his tail and tongue lolling enthusiastically.

"Sorry, big guy, just to the barbeque pit and back," she told him. "But, if you play your cards right, you might actually get some steak out of this."

"Rooph! ruph!"

"Hey, easy, boy, you'll wake the baby up in 4F."

"Rooph, rooph, rooph!"

A shiver of unease went down Veronica's spine as they gained the Deck. She peered into the shadows. The sun had just dropped below the horizon line, and the automatic lighting hadn't come on, yet. She realised that her mace was in her coat… the coat she'd left behind in the apartment.

Damn it.

"Hey, boy," Veronica murmured, as she bent down to unhook Backup's lead. "How about we play a nice game of hide and—"

She felt it cut through the air, rather than saw it, and instinctively dropped to the floor, letting it hit the space above her. Backup went wild, and Veronica pulled herself shakily to her feet, and up against the railing. Voices called out, and Veronica was sure she heard her father's among them.

The lights suddenly blazed, and Veronica had good look at her attacker. "Holy Crusader," she breathed, as she eyed the huge sword in his hand. Backup had gone for the weapon hand, but a blade wasn't a gun, and he was already bleeding from several shallow cuts.

It all happened so quickly. One moment, Backup had the bad guy's wrist between his teeth; the next, he was lying on the deck, a dagger thrust into his hind leg. The intruder leapt at her, grabbing her by the hair and bending her backwards over the rail. "How many of you are they?" he rasped.

"Wh-what?"

"How many of you are they, in town…_watching_?" he asked. He frantically tugged at her cardigan sleeves, dragging them off her wrists.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she said, as she watched him check one wrist, then the next. A look of pure rage flew through his narrow, pale face, and dark eyes.

"You're not one of them," he muttered. "Not one of us… why were you talking to him?"

"Who?" Veronica asked, wincing as she heard the fear in her voice.

"Dawson!" he growled. "You were talking to Dawson, and that other one…is it the boy? Is he a Watcher? Your lover?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I only met Mr Dawson in the elevator—"

Veronica screamed as he squeezed her throat, and held the blade to it. She heard footsteps on the stairs – her father's – but she knew he wouldn't make it in time. "You've seen my face," he said lowly, his limp, dark hair falling into his eyes as he stared into hers.

A pop sounded, and the man's eyes widened, as an exit wound formed on his forehead. He slumped onto her, and Veronica whimpered, pushing him aside; the body toppled over the railing, and into the darkness below.

"You all right, kid?"

Veronica looked at her saviour, shock running through every bone in her body. "You shot him between the eyes - with a_ silenced_ gun."

Joe Dawson shrugged as he expertly unscrewed it and popped the gun and silencer inside his long overcoat just as her father ran onto the Deck.

"Honey?" he asked, lowering his gun slightly. Then he saw Backup, who lay whimpering on his side, and swiftly raised it again, looking at Dawson suspiciously.

"Dad, this is Joe Dawson," Veronica explained hurriedly. "I think…I think… he just saved my life."

The tension eased out of her father's shoulders, and he nodded, holstering the gun as he crouched beside backup, who whimpered. "He got away?"

"Leapt over the railing," Dawson said quickly, before Veronica could open her mouth. "Probably long gone."

Veronica stared at him as she heard the bald faced lie coming out of his mouth. "Oh, I don't know," she drawled sarcastically, suddenly finding her voice. "I think he may have injured his head on the way down - I definitely heard something go pop!"

She saw the wince flit across his face, but he held firm to his lie. "No," he said. "I heard footsteps running, he's gone."

"Gone?" Veronica echoed flatly.

"Veronica, honey, is there something you're not telling me?" he father interrupted gently, as he wrapped backup in his jacket and lifted him.

Veronica looked at Dawson's face; she saw the warning in his eyes, and the 'I'll explain later' his lips mouthed silently. She hesitated; the man had saved her life. "Nothing, Dad," she said eventually. "Just a bit freaked out, I guess…is Backup okay?"

"It seems superficial, blood loss, mostly," his father muttered worriedly. "I'm taking him to the vet's."

"I'll go with you," she said.

"No, honey, you have to talk to cops, remember? You've just been attacked. They're already on their way."

Veronica groaned. "Do I have to?" she complained. "I'm alright, see?" She did a little twirl. "All in one piece."

"Veronica, the bruises are already forming on your neck," he said softly. "You're talking to the cops and when I'm finished at the vet's, I'm bringing you to the hospital to get checked out."

"Dad!"

"_Veronica!_" he snapped, before taking a deep breath. "Just do your old man a favour, okay, honey? I'll sleep better knowing you were checked out."

Reluctantly, Veronica nodded, wrapping her arms around herself, as she suddenly felt the cold. She sensed Dawson move behind her, and felt the heavy weight of an overcoat fall onto her shoulders.

"Here, kid, I'll keep you company until they arrive."

Her father gave Dawson a sharp look, then nodded. "In case I don't have an opportunity to say it later, Mr Dawson, thank you," he said.

Veronica watched her father descend the steps, before she whirled on him. "The cops will be here any moment," she said. "Spill, or I'll tell them everything."

"You would, too, wouldn't you?" he said, half amused. "You're one tough cookie, kid. Most teenagers your age would be a drooling mess by now."

"Been there, done that," she said sharply. "Kinda grew bored of it – now, who was he, and why did you lie to my father? You've just made it a lot harder to defend yourself, once the cops find the body… and while I'm at it, why are you _here_?"

"Your attacker's name is Harry Proctor," Dawson said.

"_Was_, you mean," she retorted.

"No kid, I meant _is_," Dawson said softly. "I know you think you saw him die but, believe me, he's still very much alive… and now that you've seen his face, your life is in danger."


	5. Chapter 5: Ahead of the Game

Lamb was having way too much fun with the situation, and experience told Veronica he was just getting started. He had kept her standing on the deck for well over an hour while he interrogated her, and she was finding it hard to concentrate - probably because she could feel the weight of Joe Dawson's gun bump against her elbow as she shifted her weight in his coat. If Lamb got it into his head to search her, she was screwed.

Joe Dawson didn't seem concerned about the possibility, which just went to show how ridiculously naïve he was about the local police force. She eyed the cops tramping on the sand below. Luckily, the evidence backed up their story. They had found footprints on the beach, and the prints had no heel, which meant the attacker had been running away from the scene at full tilt.

Harry Proctor was mighty spry for someone who had just taken a bullet to the head.

Veronica risked a sly glance at Dawson. He was leaning heavily on his cane, a look of exasperation on his face.

"Are we finished here yet?" he asked, impatiently.

"Oh, we haven't even started," Lamb drawled.

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that," Joe said shortly. "Shouldn't you be chasing down the attacker, rather than grilling the victim?"

"Ah, but we haven't yet established Miss Mars is the actual victim," Lamb said, with a smirk. "For all we know, she was the perpetrator of the crime. After all, she is the subject of an FBI investigation."

Joe stared at him. "Are you for real?" he asked. "The girl has a ring of bruises around her neck – which haven't been checked out by a medic yet, by the way."

"Tell it to the—

"Wizard," Joe finished, cutting him off. "You know what? I getting pretty tired of you mouthing off, so charge us, or let us go." Lamb scowled, and Veronica smothered a sigh.

"I think I smell a misdemeanour in the air," Lamb said.

"And I smell a lawsuit," a voice called out from behind the Sheriff. Veronica smirked as she spotted Cliff striding towards them.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our local ambulance chaser. What's the matter - ran out of hookers to bail out of jail?"

"Nice to see you're still your charming self, Sheriff," Cliff said.

"What are you doing here, Cliff?"

"Well, a funny thing happened to me on my way home to a well deserved night of rest," Cliff sighed. "I got a call from Keith Mars. He seems to be under the strange impression that his daughter might be in need of legal aid while he was absent. He thought that you might forget his daughter was brutally attacked tonight, and try to interrogate her while she should be seeking medical attention. Of course, now I can see that his fears were totally unfounded."

"You lot must think I'm a complete fool," Lamb said flatly. "We found blood on the scene – human blood, not canine blood. I know you're not telling me everything."

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Sorry I can't help you, deputy – my Daddy taught me not to embellish the truth." She gave him a saccharine sweet smile.

"Oh yes, you're just sugar and spice, aren't you?" Lamb said flatly.

"Sheriff?" a deputy called out.

"Yeah, what is it?" Lamb barked.

"We've got a match for the prints."

"You have a name?" Lamb asked, smirking as he shot Dawson a look.

The deputy moved on his feet nervously. We don't have a name," he admitted, "The prints are connected to another crime scene."

Lamb straightened. "What crime scene?"

"A murder in New York last month," the deputy said uncomfortably.

"Uh-oh, I guess that rules me out of your investigation," Veronica said chirpily.

Lamb threw her a disgusted look. "If you think that this lets you off the hook—"

"Uh…sheriff?" the deputy interjected quietly.

"What!"

"The victim at the other murder scene was decapitated." For a moment there was a blanket of silence, before the deputy added. "Agent Morris is on the radio, asking for you."

Lamb's lip curled. "Tell Agent Morris I'll get back to her," he said. "And then get down to that damned beach."

The deputy frowned "Sir?"

"I want you to follow those footprints as far as they go, and find out where he left the sand."

"And the good Sheriff finally decides to follow the evidence," Cliff said. There was a bite to his words.

"Shut up, Cliff."

"So, does that mean I'm a free woman?" Veronica asked lightly.

"Not so fast, Mars; you still haven't explained Mr Dawson's presence."

"I thought it would be rather obvious," Dawson piped up. "I wanted to talk to Miss Mars about finding my friend's remains, and I interrupted her attacker when I got here."

Lamb gave him a sharp look. "Some might see that as interfering with a police investigation."

"First there would need to be an investigation to interrupt," Dawson shot back.

"Ha, ha," Lamb said. "Don't leave—"

"Town," Dawson said. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time." He darted a look at Veronica. "Need a lift to the hospital?"

"Why thank you, Mr Dawson," Veronica said. "That's so kind of you."

Dawson's lips twitched. "Just trying to do my duty as a good Samaritan," he drawled, laying it on with a trowel.

Lamb rolled his eyes. "Get the hell out of my sight."

* * *

Veronica slumped into the passenger seat of Joe's car, feeling the last of her adrenaline rush seep away. She watched as Dawson gave Lamb a cheery wave before he got into the car. "You know, you'll get nowhere antagonising that guy," Veronica said wearily. "He just gets mean."

"Doesn't seem to stop you," Dawson said, amusement showing in his voice.

"Yeah, well, I'm just ornery that way," Veronica, "So where to now, Jeeves?"

"That's up to you," Dawson said "We can go to my hotel suite, and I'll fill you in on the gory details, or I can drop you off at the local emergency room, and we can pretend this night never happened."

"Sorry, Toto, but Dorothy ain't going back to Kansas anytime soon," Veronica drawled.

"My hotel room it is, then," he said, starting the engine.

Veronica smirked. "I'll bet that sounded a lot less pervy in your head."

"Just a bit," Dawson agreed, as he pulled out. A cell phone chirped in the pocket of Dawson's coat and Veronica raised an eyebrow at him as she took it out and answered it.

"_Joe, where have you been? There's been a new development._" The accent was Scottish

"Sorry, Joe can't come to the phone at the moment" Veronica said lightly. "Can I take a message?"

"_Who the hell is this?_"

"Give me that," Dawson said, grabbing the cell phone from her fingers. "Mac? It's me."

Veronica watched impatiently as Dawson listened to the guy on the phone, a frown developing on his face. "Yeah, I know. I was there when it happened," he said into the phone, before he listened again. "Nobody has reported in yet," he said, eventually. "I'll let you know when I hear something." He ended the call, and tossed the phone onto the dashboard.

Veronica quirked an eyebrow. "Care to fill me in?" she asked.

"When we get to the Neptune Grand," he said, weariness showing in his voice. "I don't think I should be driving when we—" His cell phone rang again, and he snatched at it. Joe Dawson was a real popular guy.

"That's illegal, I'll have you know," she said, as he snapped it open.

"Yeah, well, tell it to the wizard, Dorothy," he said, with a smirk. "Dawson," he said, into the phone, and then his face brightened. "About time," he said. "When did they let you out?"

She watched as a gamut of emotions ran across his face and she didn't have to be a genius to figure out who Joe was talking to; his friend, Adam Pierson. Agent Morris must have lost interest in him once she realised she might have a nice juicy serial killer on her hook.

Veronica bit her lip as they pulled into the Neptune Grand's garage, her mind flashing back to what had happened earlier. She remembered the look of shock and surprise on Harry Proctors face as the bullet went through his brain, and Dawson's insistence that he was still alive. Reality was beginning to settle on her, and she shivered as the car came to the halt. What if Joe Dawson had lied to her? It wouldn't be the first time someone had fooled her. Maybe somebody had carried the body away and covered up the evidence—

Bang!

The first shot was deafening, and Dawson threw himself on her, pushing her head down below the windows. Another shot blasted the air, smashing the passenger window to bits.

"My Gun," Joe rasped out.

It took Veronica a few moments for his words to sink in, and she pulled out his gun from his coat and pushed it into his hands. He reached across her, and opened the passenger door. "When I give the word, I want you to run for the emergency stairs and get to my room as fast as you can," he said. "Tell Adam I'm pinned down; seventh floor, room 610. I'll cover you."

Another shot took out the back window, and Veronica winced, "You can come with me!" she insisted, not wanting to leave him alone with an unseen gunman.

"The days when I could run for cover are long gone, kid," Dawson said dryly. "Don't worry, it's not the first time I've been in this situation – now, _run._"

He raised his gun and fired, and Veronica rolled out of the car, and ran for the stairs, slamming into the emergency doors at full tilt. She had barely made it up a flight, when she heard the doors open again, below her. Her heart sank as she heard footsteps running up behind her - definitely not Dawson.

A bullet skinned the wall, mere inches from her face, and Veronica began to panic. She'd never make it to seventh floor using the stairs, she had to improvise.

He was gaining on her, and Veronica desperately threw herself through the next set of doors, and stumbled into a carpeted hallway. She turned the corner and found herself in the lobby. Slowing to a walk, she looked around. There was security at the door, and a dozen well heeled potential witnesses lounging on the deep leather couches. Hopefully, he wasn't crazy enough to shoot her in public. As casually as she could, she made her way to the elevator and stabbed at the button.

A moment later, Proctor ran into the lobby and Veronica felt something in her chest squeeze. It was true, it was all true.

He eyed her across the lobby, his hand jammed inside his coat, and Veronica's eyes veered to the entrance. The security guards were armed. If she walked in their direction, maybe he'd decide to give up the chase.

Veronica wasn't sure what happened next. It was as if Proctor walked into a solid wall. She watched him throw his eyes around the lobby, as if he was frantically searching for someone, and the elevator doors slid open.

Adam Pierson stepped out, a grim expression on his face. "Where's Joe," he asked, not taking his eyes off Proctor.

"The garage," Veronica said.

He nodded. "Why don't you go and find him," he said flatly. "Mr Proctor and I are going to have a little chat."

"He's got a gun," Veronica told him.

Pierson smiled humourlessly. "He isn't going to shoot me," he said confidently.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Veronica said. "The guy gets his jollies from chopping people's heads off. In my book, that definitely makes him axe murderer material."

For the first time since he stepped out of the elevator, Adam looked down at her. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, with a slight twitch of his lips, before he strode across the lobby.

Veronica frowned, Joe Dawson owed her a _lot_ of answers.


	6. Chapter 6: Musical Floors

Joe was already gone when she made it to the garage, and there was no way in hell he could have climbed the stairs in such a short time period, so that only left the elevator. She glanced over at it and, sure enough, the indicator above the door was climbing down from the seventh floor.

She crossed the garage at a trot, and looked over her shoulder when she heard the hum of a car engine. A pair of headlights caught her eyes and, blinking, she took a hasty step back - fear quickly turned into irritation, however, when she recognised the ugly yellow colour of the jeep.

"Back for another visit so soon?" Logan drawled, as he jumped out of the car. "I'm touched."

Veronica rolled her eyes. "I really don't have time for this, Logan," she said sharply, as the elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, and groaned as she heard the distant wail of sirens. Her first instinct was to leave Logan standing there, and let Lamb have him. But she couldn't trust him to say nothing about her presence in the garage. "You'd better get in," she said reluctantly.

He stepped into the elevator beside her, with exaggerated alacrity. "Friends of yours?" he asked, as the blurred lights of a cop car flashed at the garage entrance.

"One more word and I'll push you out and leave you to the wolves," she said, through gritted teeth.

"Don't you mean the Lamb?" he countered

Silently, Veronica hit the button, and stepped back. Ignoring Logan, especially in these close quarters, was almost a supernatural feat. She stared at the elevator door, her face carefully blank.

His hand swam into view, as he hit the fifth floor button.

"I'm not going to the fifth floor," she said flatly.

"No, that would be me," he drawled. "And, hey, look on the bright side; at least this way Lamb won't head straight for the seventh floor when he starts banging on doors."

She gave him a startled look, and he replied with a humourless smile. "I'm a jerk, not an idiot," he reminded her. "Try to not get yourself killed, Mars – and nice overcoat, by the way." Veronica shrugged uncomfortably in Joe's coat, as the elevator doors opened, and Logan slunk past her and gave her a sloppy, knowing salute. It was at times like this she didn't know whether to slug him or hug him.

The doors slid open on the seventh floor, and Veronica paused on the way out and hit the buttons for the eighth floor and the roof, and then the buttons for the rest of the floors for good measure. It'd be a while before the elevator made its way back down to the garage.

The door to room 610 was already slightly ajar, and Veronica found Joe talking into his phone, held in place by his shoulder and chin, as he threw his clothes into a carryall.

"I'm telling you, this situation is getting way out of control," Joe barked, waving her into the room, "We need a clean up team, fast - and get Winters on the job. The last thing we need is a full on FBI hunt!" he paused, obviously listening to the person on the other end. "I don't give a flying shit what Gerard thinks, Max, it needs to be done."

Veronica leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms, as he hung up the phone and threw it on the bed. "You know, it's a funny thing, but I'm pretty sure you promised me an explanation if I came here… and yet all I see is an exit strategy."

"I need to leave," Joe told her shortly. "Proctor knows where we are, and he's not the kind to give up easily."

"From what I can see, he's not the type to die easily, either," Veronica drawled.

Joe threw her an exasperated look. "Could you come in and close the door behind you, before we have this conversation?" he asked.

She did as she was told. "I met your friend Adam in the Lobby," she said, conversationally, as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Proctor didn't seem too happy to bump into him."

Joe went deathly still. "When?" He asked.

"About five minutes ago?" Veronica said cautiously. "And the cops are in the garage. Somebody must have reported gunfire… anything I need to know?"

He grimaced. "You know a back way out of here?" he asked.

Veronica sighed. "No, but I know a good detour," she admitted, getting to her feet. "Someone I know lives on the fifth floor. He'll be a pain about it, but he'll cover us. We should use the service elevator; it doesn't go down to the garage."

He nodded, understanding. "Lead the way," he said, zipping the carryall closed.

They stepped out onto the corridor. "Proctor knows where I live, too," she said, as they hurried towards the service elevator. "Do I need to call my Dad and warn him?"

"Not yet," Joe said, as they reached the elevator. "We should wait to hear from Adam."

Veronica rolled the trolley sitting inside the service elevator out into the hall. "And what if Adam doesn't contact you?" she asked quietly, as the door closed.

"Then we really are up the creek without a paddle," Joe admitted.

"I see," Veronica asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

Dawson gave her a wary look. "Depends on the question," he said.

"Did you ever intend to tell me the truth, or were you just going to string me along until you figured out what I already knew?"

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "No flies on you," he said wryly.

"Let's just say I've had a steep learning curve." The doors slid open, but Veronica stood in his way, blocking his exit. "I can't keep covering for you, if I don't know what is going on," she said. "I need to know where I stand."

"Listen, kid—"

"My name is Veronica," she threw back. "And you can save your dear John speech, I'm not going anywhere."

"What I was going to say, Veronica," he said dryly. "Was that I'm not the best person to explain it to you. For you to really understand what is going on here, you're going to need some form of...visual proof."

Veronica crossed her arms. "Let me guess, you don't have that proof on you, but you will real soon, and then you'll tell me everything?"

"Did anyone ever tell you, you were a bit on the cynical side?" Joe asked.

"All the time," Logan's voice drawled, from behind her. "But guess what? She's too cynical to believe me."

"Hey, Logan," Veronica chirped.

"Hey, Veronica," he chirped back. "What'ya doing?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Veronica said.

"Hiding from the law?"

"Yup."

"And let me guess, you were hoping to hide out in my place," Logan said. "Tell me why I should say yes?"

"Because I'd do the same thing for you, if our positions were reversed?" she ventured.

Logan let out a laugh. "No you wouldn't – you'd break out the popcorn while they slapped the cuffs on me."

"Oh Christ," Joe said suddenly. "You brought me to your ex's place, haven't you?"

"That obvious, huh?" Veronica asked.

"We don't have time for this," Joe said, pushing past her, before glaring at Logan. "Which one's your room?" he asked.

"Why should I tell you, old man?" he asked.

"Because this old man is armed," Joe said heatedly.

"Whoah! Let's not go there!" Veronica cut in, grabbing Joe by the elbow. "It's this way."

"Veronica, you need a key," he called after her.

"Good thing I still have the key card Duncan gave me, then," she said, not looking back. She grinned as she heard him curse.

"That's a very dysfunctional relationship you've got going there," Joe muttered.

"You don't know the half of it—"

Joe's cell began to ring, and he pulled his elbow free to answer it. "Dawson," he said, as Veronica opened her bag.

Logan's hand reached in between them as he swiped his card through the door lock. "I'm changing the card code tomorrow," he said flatly.

"No you're not," Veronica said, sugary sweet, as she pushed the door open.

"Could you two keep it down?" Joe grumped. "Adam's on the phone."

"Who the hell is Adam?" Logan asked.

"Cute British guy," Veronica shot back, as she took off Joe's coat. "Have you anything other than cold pizza and beer in here? I didn't get my steak dinner tonight."

She turned to look at Logan; who was staring at her, frowning. "What happened to your neck?" he asked.

"Oh" Her hand automatically went to touch the bruises. "I forgot about those."

"Christ, Veronica, why is it you can't seem to get through a single week without getting into some kind of life threatening situation?"

"Guess I'm just lucky that way," she quipped, ignoring the look on his face as she turned to Joe. "Well?" she asked, as he got off the phone.

"Proctor got away again – it might be a good idea to call your Dad, after all. Tell him to shoot first and ask questions afterwards." He tossed his phone at her, and she caught it.

"And your friend?" she asked.

Dawson shrugged. "He's on his way up," he said. "Congratulations. It seems you're going to get your answers, after all."

"You don't seem too happy about that," Veronica observed.

With a sigh, Dawson sat on the edge of the couch. "You remember that old Frost poem from school – two roads divided in a yellow wood…"

"The Road Less Travelled," Veronica said impatiently. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"Well, let's just say that this is one hell of a thorny path," he said gently, as there was a knock on the door.

"Joe?" a muffled voice said.

"You'd better answer that," Joe said. "After all, you're the one who wanted answers."


	7. Chapter 7: The Big Reveal

There was another urgent tap on the door and Veronica hesitated as she approached it.

"_Joe, any time today_." said Adam's muffled voice.

Little pig, little pig, let me come in," Logan muttered, as he beat her to the handle and opened the door. "Welcome, welcome to Casa Echolls -" He paused. "Is that a great big sword in your hand, or are you just glad to see me?"

Veronica took a step back as Joe's friend shouldered his way into the room. "Can we leave the flirting until later?" he said hoarsely as he stumbled to the couch. The sword slid from his fingers as he fell unconscious and Veronica's eyes widened as she took in his injuries.

"He needs an ambulance," she said as she flipped open Joe's cell.

"No!" Joe barked, as he crossed the room. "No doctors, just give him a few moments."

"He's bleeding on my couch," Logan observed. "I'm sending you the bill, Mars."

"Cheque's in the mail," Veronica snapped, before turning to Joe. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't call Lamb in here right now."

"Because he'll arrest you again," Joe said.

"Usually a good point," Veronica said, but I'm not going to let someone die just because I'm allergic to handcuffs."

Logan smirked. "That's not what you said when-"

"Not a good time, Logan."

Logan held up his hands in surrender and threw himself into an armchair. "Pray, continue."

Joe held his hand to the pulse point on Adam's neck and sighed. "He's gone," he said. "You'd better call your father. Things are going to get a little crazy here in a moment."

For a moment, Veronica was at a loss but then her priorities kicked in. her Dad was in danger. She rang his cell. "Dad?"

"_Veronica? Why are you using someone else's cell?_"

"Plausible deniability?" Veronica said. "How's Backup?"

"_He's going to pull through. Where are you? And don't tell me you're at the hospital because guess where I am."_

She winced. "Sorry, took a small detour, ran into Proctor again."

"_Are you okay?_"

"I'm fine," Veronica said. "He didn't lay a finger on me. I just wanted to give you a heads up just in case he tried to double back to our place."

"_Where are you? I'm coming to get you,"_he said firmly.

"Uh, that might not such a good idea, Dad."

"_Honey, that wasn't a suggestion._"

Veronica pulled a face as she visualised the apoplectic fit her Dad would have if she told him the truth. Where was she? Oh, just at Logan's place, the guy he loved to hate. And what was she doing there? Standing over a dead body. Something told her that she may have arrived at that bridge too far.

"I'm on my way over to Wallace's," she lied. "I didn't think it was a good idea to go home and I figured my BFF would help a sister out."

"_Hmm,"_ her Dad said. "_Not a bad plan. Try and stick to it. I'm going to take a trip to the Sheriff's office and see how close Lamb has got to catching this guy._"

"Love you," Veronica said guiltily.

"_Love you too, honey, see you soon_."

She dialled again the moment he hung up. She knew her Dad and knew his trust in her was rather shaky at the moment. With good reason, she thought uncomfortably. The phone rang and Veronica smiled with relief as Wallace picked up.

"_Hey, Veronica, what can I do for you on this fine day - got a body to bury?_" he teased.

"Don't I always? She drawled, trying not to look at the couch. If only he knew.

"_Well, I've got practice in an hour so you're going to have to bring the shovels_," he said.

"Relax, Don Corleone, I'm just looking for an alibi."

"_Is there a seedy hotel involved in this scenario?_"

She laughed. "You _wish._I just told my Dad I was going over to your place. Cover for me, will you?"

"_It's not me you have to worry about_," Wallace said. "_My Mom is. I think he's on the phone to her right now."_

Veronica groaned; sometimes, the fact her best friend's Mom was her Dad's ex was a real pain. Couldn't they have at least had a bad break up? "Suggestions from the peanut gallery?" she asked.

"_Relax, I've got it covered_," Wallace said. "_I'll tell her I'm meeting up with you at practice._"

"Think she'll believe you?" Veronica asked.

"_Hey, I happen to be a model child, unlike some people,_" he said. "_Of course she'll believe me_."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in," Veronica said. "Thanks, bestie."

"_I'm expecting many, many spirit boxes in my future, Mars_" he said, before hanging up.

"Veronica Mars, felon," Logan said. "Has a nice ring to it."

"You can give me tips," Veronica said brightly. "Seeing as you've had so much practice."

The body on the couch twitched, a she let out a high little girly squeak that she just _knew_Logan would never let her live down - then again, he looked pretty freaked out himself, so maybe he didn't notice.

"Dead bodies don't move," he said lowly.

"He got better," Joe deadpanned, as Adam's eyes shot open, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. Veronica found herself wishing she'd thought to bring her bag with her. She'd feel a lot safer with a taser in her hand right now.

Adam's eyes seemed to clear once he had the sword in his hand. "How long was I gone?"

"Long enough," Joe muttered.

He eyed Veronica ruefully. "I hate waking up to an audience."

"You're like Proctor," she said. "What the hell are you?"

"The technical term is Immortal," he said. "And that's where the similarities between me and Proctor end."

"And the guy on the beach?"

"Just plain old mortal," Adam sighed.

"What's with the swords?" Veronica asked. "And I'm not going to buy 'coincidence'"

"Told you she was sharp," Joe said, sotto voice. Veronica glared at him, her eyes skimming over to Logan as he sniggered.

"I can already hear the crack of the proverbial whip," he drawled.

"Don't you have some housewife to boff? A swimming pool to set on fire, perhaps?"

"And miss the home entertainment?" Logan asked, smirking. "Heaven forfend."

"Listen," Joe said. "We should be moving-"

"Not one step, buster," Veronica said. "I haven't got my answers yet! What's with the swords?"

Adam grimaced. "Losing our head is the only way we can die," he said reluctantly. "Hence the swords."

Veronica crossed her arms. "So let me get this straight, you're immortal and you cannot die unless someone cuts off your head... something you seem very keen on practicing." She looked at the sword pointedly.

"I'd use a gun but he'd only come back again," Adam said bluntly.

"And the guy in New York - was it Proctor who killed him or was that it _you_." She scowled as she noticed Joe and Adam exchange a knowing glance. "It's not a trick question. A straight yes or no will do."

Joe sighed. "It was Proctor," he said.

"And the body on the beach?" she demanded. "Who the hell was he and why did Proctor kill him - and stop _doing _that!"

"Stop what?" Adam asked tiredly.

"Exchanging those little looks with Joe, as if you're weighing up how much you should tell me."

"I'd tell her what she wants to know, if I were you," Logan drawled. "She gets mean when people lie to her."

"Not helping, Logan."

Adam sighed. "I think that's your queue, Joe," he said.

"Oh gee, thanks,"Joe groused, looking round. "What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here? Doesn't this place come with a mini bar?"

"No changing the subject, I want the truth or I'm going to going to tell that goon squad searching the hotel everything I know," Veronica said, although she noted Logan was already heading for the fridge.

Joe Snorted. "No offence, kid, but considering your stellar reputation with the local cops, I'd say it's fifty fifty he'd end up arresting you instead."

"Bourbon or scotch?" Logan pronounced, and Veronica glared at him. She knew damned well he was only playing the dutiful host in order to get under her skin..

"Scotch," Joe said, as he perched on an arm chair. Logan poured two glasses and handed him one, and Veronica folded her arms. "Well?" she asked impatiently.

"Jim and Edward were kind of...historians," he said, and Adam snorted.

Veronica raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't realised being a historian was such a deadly profession," she said sarcastically.

"Oh yes, it's real cut throat," Adam muttered, and got a sharp smack of Joe's cane on the leg. "Ow!"

"You'll live," Joe snarled.

"This is the treatment I get for helping an friend out," he sighed dramatically.

"If it weren't for you, Proctor wouldn't have clued into us in the first place!"

"So now it's _my_fault the Watcher you sicced on me was sloppy!"

"He wasn't sloppy?" Joe asked heatedly.

"Children, children, indoor voices please," Logan said.

Logan Echolls, peacemaker... that chill in the air would be hell freezing over. "This isn't getting us anywhere," Veronica said. "We need to track Proctor down before he kills again."

"Easier said that done," Joe said. "You'd think it'd be simple to track someone down in a town this small but he's gone to ground somewhere and we can't find him. We even tried to hack into the town's traffic camera's but for some strange reason their encryption is through the roof."

Historians... _right_...

"Welcome to the town of Kane," she said, with a brittle smile. "The master of streaming video. Guy's more paranoid than Nixon and he pretty much owns the place."

Adam gave her a long look. "Something tells me there's a story in there somewhere."

"Moving on," Veronica said brightly. "What we need is someone capable of hacking the town's traffic cameras, correct?"

"Why, got one stashed away?" Adam teased.

Veronica smirked. "As a matter of fact..." She dredged up the phone number from memory. She was never forgetting her bag again, near death experience or no near death experience.

"_Yeah?_" said a tentative voice.

"_Mac,_compadre, old friend," Veronica said. "Want to pull one over on the man?"

"_How many laws will we be breaking?"_"

"Well, you know how it is. If you break one, you break them all."

Mac laughed. "_That many, huh?_" she said. "_Your place or mine?"_

"Neither," Veronica said. "Tonight we're going to ground at the Neptune Grand."

"_Ooh, fancy_," Mac said. "_Are you going all Bond on me? Will there be Martini's?_"

"Oh, Q, you have to ask?" Veronica said, her eyes darted to Logan. "Fifth floor - Logan Echoll's suite."

There was a pause. "_Oh, that should be fun,_" Mac said dryly.

"Tragic, really, to see cynicism in one so young," Veronica said. "See you soon."

"_I'll bring the pest repellent._"

"The mark of a true friend," Veronica said, and Mac hung up with a laugh.

Logan eyed her. "By all means, make yourself at home," he said.

"We'll get out of your hair as quick as possible," she told him stiffly.

"If only that were true," he said enigmatically.


End file.
